


Declaration

by Woolverine



Series: Even Shadows Dream [7]
Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Angst and Romance, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 16:50:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11085828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Woolverine/pseuds/Woolverine
Summary: The opening words of the Charlatan's speech are based on the Declaration of Arbroath, written in 1320, and as powerful today as it was then. I could think of no better way to describe the aspirations of anyone struggling against tyranny.





	Declaration

_“It was not for glory, nor riches, nor honours that we fought, but for freedom, justice, and a fair society for all, no matter their species, their origin, or gender.”_

Reyes had been over the speech a dozen times at least. He wasn’t even going to deliver it, Raeka was, on behalf of the Charlatan. It felt dangerous admitting to the reasons behind their cause, these many months after Sloane Kelly’s murder. Reyes knew there were still Outcast members lurking out in the badlands. How were they going to react? Should he expect further violence from them, even though they had been mostly lying low, trying not to get caught by the Collective search teams? 

“The speech is fine, Reyes. Stop fussing with it,” Keema instructed. They were in her private sitting room in the Collective headquarters. She was reclining on a large sofa, plumped up by cushions, reading her own datapad.

“I need to make sure I haven’t made any typos,” he replied.

“You haven’t. You’ve checked it, Crux has checked it, that funny little historian has checked it. The speech is as good as it is going to get.”

“It’s rubbish then?” Reyes asked, then laughed when Keema threw a cushion at his head.

“I’ll be glad when all the speeches are done and we can get on with the party. I need some serious relaxation, Reyes.” Keema did look tired, a grey tinge to her normally lilac skin.

“It’s what might happen after the speeches are finished which is terrifying me, Keema. I’m not sure I can get manage without getting blackout drunk first.”

“You are definitely staying sober, little brother. At least until… unless…” The Angaran’s voice trailed away.

“Unless Sara won’t have anything to do with me, then you’ll be emptying bottles into my mouth for me?”

“Something like that.” Keema sat up, putting her datapad aside. “I don’t see why she would reject you now, Reyes. It was the criminal thing which made the situation hard for her.”

“I think Sara was fine with me being a criminal. I think it was my not telling her I was The Criminal which torpedoed our relationship.”

“The Charlatan is not a criminal! I wish you would stop saying that. You’re a resistance leader.“

“Ah, but only a dozen or people know that, Keema. Dozens more know for certain the Charlatan is the biggest crook out there.” Reyes switched his datapad off. “I never truly thought we would live to see the end of Sloane, never mind make it this far.”

“I had faith in you, right from the start, little brother. I knew you would succeed, with such fire and fury powering your fight. A hero!”

“Don’t call me a hero, Keema!” he snapped. “Never! No one who has committed the terrible acts I have should be given that title.”

“They were necessary things. No one could have regretted the necessity more than you, my dear one.” Keema walked over to Reyes, reached out to grasp his shoulder. “You may feel your battles were without honour, they were nevertheless righteous. We will remember that, even if you refuse to.”

Reyes closed his eyes, calling up images of atrocities committed at his command. While he could still hear the moans of the dying, Reyes could not call his battles righteous. He had intended the Collective to be a resistance movement disguised as a criminal gang, with the establishment of protection and justice for all as his goal. Well, at first, his motivation could be summed up in four words “No more official beatings.” That had gradually expanded as Kelly’s madness had grown. Unspeakable acts had then become almost commonplace for Reyes. His regret was tempered by the knowledge of what he and his people had managed to achieve, of the lives they had improved and saved.   

The Collective had succeeded far beyond what they had hoped for in the beginning, largely due to the Pathfinder’s work. Their end game had had to adjust accordingly. Kadara was now a viable home, for Exiles, Angarans, the Initiative colonists. It needed the right foundations to flourish. Everyone had joked about the Charlatan becoming the King of Kadara Port, a joke Reyes rejected wholeheartedly. Despite his need to prove himself, his drive to succeed, he never had any intention of becoming Kadara’s next tyrant. Reyes found the thought of it sickening.

Now, after tyranny -  democracy -  or the closest they could manage. Reyes had realised he hadn’t got the education or the skills to set up a democratic society incorporating six species of people and who knew how many different political traditions. That’s why he had approached Pathfinder Raeka and the Moshae at the celebration on Meridian. They had the access to the specialists, Angaran and Initiative, he and Keema desperately needed to reach their final goal.  

“Stop soaking yourself in already spilled blood, Reyes. Shut the door on the past. Be ready for your future,” Keema said.

“Which future would that be, big sister?”

“Whichever future you want. You have the drive to be whatever you want. Believe in yourself, Reyes.”

“The upside to retirement will be being able to visit you for pep talks whenever I want, Keema, without worrying someone might suspect I’m the Charlatan,” Reyes said.

“The only upside?” she asked.

“I’m not letting myself consider any other possible benefits. You know how badly I deal with disappointment, Keema,” he replied.

“But the Pathfinder isn’t coming here for the ceremony or to see me. Sara comes to Kadara because you have asked her to.”

Keema’s formal invitation to Sara had gone unanswered until after Reyes sent his email. Then Sara had sent Reyes the briefest of replies.

_“At least any booze you get from me won’t be stolen.”_

There was nothing there on which to base any hopes or dreams. Reyes knew that. Still, if left unoccupied his mind would wander to thoughts of a future in which he wasn’t bereft. Perhaps even a future shared with Sara. Reyes would force himself to abandon those dreams, however. He didn’t deserve them.

He did allow himself to hope that something would develop from this meeting which might assuage the gnawing, black grief at his core. Time had not reduced it. Distance had not. If anything, Sara’s continued absence from his life fed the grief, growing it ever more massive.

He wanted to be the kind of man Sara deserved, wanted. Reyes knew he was not a good person, but he was trying to be a decent one, despite his misdeeds - because of his misdeeds. He hoped Sara would be able to look at him and see how he was striving to be worthy of her attention. Even as he hoped, Reyes believed it the most forlorn, most unlikely of hopes.

“Friends. We are to be friends again, Keema. That is all. Scott doesn’t speak for Sara, even if they are twins,” he insisted.

A notification popped on his omnitool. The Tempest had docked, last of the Pathfinder ships to arrive. Reyes suddenly felt as nervous as a boy preparing for his first ever date. He resisted the urge to run his fingers through his hair. He had spent more time than usual on his appearance. This would be the first time Sara saw Reyes out of his usual flight suit, and he wanted to look good for her. Keema had been teasing him over the care he had taken choosing new clothes.

“How do I look?” Reyes asked.

“I think you look fantastic though you should probably ask someone from your own species!” Keema had already had to answer this question a number of times.

“I asked Crux. She was embarrassed when I wanted to know if I looked good from the back.”

Keema laughed loudly. "Her embarrassment clearly indicates her opinion. The fit of the material does… emphasise your rear.”

No gloves. Reyes had only ever touched Sara once without wearing gloves. Even if he only managed the barest of touches tonight, it would be skin against skin. He needed that.

Another notification. The Tempest’s crew were disembarking. Time for he and Keema to make their entrance, unfashionably on time. He wanted to be there when Sara arrived. His lips curved in a smile - time to get his game face on. This was an important event, for himself, and Kadara.

 

* * *

 

 

Sara was feeling suspicious. Her brother had been showing entirely too much interest in whether she was going to this event - whatever it was - Keema was hosting. She had been debating staying away, but it had been hard thinking of a suitable reason when the other Pathfinders were all going, as were Tann and Addison. Scott had pointed out, none too subtly, that if Tann was visiting the hive of scum and villainy, he could hardly snipe at Sara for doing so. 

The email from Reyes… it had timed too well with Scott’s sudden interest in her attendance, what she was planning on wearing, what time they should arrive, who they might meet. Sara suspected collusion; Scott wasn’t above sticking his nose into her personal life when he felt like it. However, this involved her professional life as well, and he definitely shouldn’t be sneaking around behind her back doing whatever he had been doing. She needed to have words with her brother about his antics, yet couldn’t summon the necessary outrage. All her emotions had felt muted for months. SAM and Lexi said there was nothing wrong with her, but Sara knew something wasn’t right.

Perhaps seeing Reyes again would help, perhaps his email had been an overture towards another attempt at building a friendship between them. Fuck, she hoped so. Sometimes she felt she didn’t have anything in her life which wasn’t Initiative or Pathfinder related. Even Scott had been treating her differently since Meridian.

Meridian. Hearing Reyes’ voice over the comms that day, hearing that he had come to back her up, had given Sara extra heart for the fight. She hadn’t had a chance to speak to him right after the battle, but there had been the usual wink and wave to demonstrate he was fine, right before she collapsed into unconsciousness. After her recovery, there had been only the briefest of conversations with Reyes. It was almost as if he didn’t want to acknowledge knowing the Pathfinder. Sara had avoided him ever since. She knew she had hurt Reyes, didn’t want to hurt him any further, and she felt the best way to manage that was to never see him. Her control over her feelings faltered in his presence.

The Tempest was due to dock at Kadara Port very soon. Sara stared at herself in the mirror. Her hair was nearly back to its former length. The scar on her face was only visible if one peered closely. The Initiative tunic and trousers set didn’t suit her, but then the quasi uniform didn’t really suit anyone. She looked… professional, dependable, dull. The ideal Pathfinder.

Scott bounced in through the door, not bothering to knock. “Ready?” he asked.

“No, but I’m going to go anyway.” Sara turned round to face her twin. “I know you’ve been plotting something, Scott. I know you know more than you’re saying about this… thing… we’re all invited to.”

“It isn’t an ambush, Sara. Not even a blind date with a sexy Turian girl.”

“That was one of your worst plans ever.”

“I can admit that, now. Six hundred years later and in a different galaxy.”

“Scott, give me a hug. I’m scared about seeing Reyes again. I’m scared he won’t talk to me.” Sara was feeling weak with anxiety.

 Sara sighed and sniffed as her brother wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly.

“He emailed you, didn’t he? Reyes wants you to be here today.”

“That doesn’t mean he wants to talk to me. It means he wants to me see something, and what if that something is Reyes being happy with another person? I don’t know if I could cope with that.” She rubbed her tears away on Scott’s shoulder. “I love him so much, you know?”

“I know, sis, I know. Trust me. I’ve scouted ahead, looked for ambushes, checked for traps. Be yourself, and everything will be fine. Okay? I’ll be with you. Your team will be with you. I wouldn’t let you near this place ever again if I thought it might cause you pain.” Scott rubbed her back soothingly.

“You’ve been to see him, haven’t you?" she accused. "Don’t deny it.”

Scott sighed. “Yes, I have. I’d heard more than few differing versions of what happened between you and Reyes. I wanted to see him for myself, form my own opinion.”

“And?” Sara whispered, not sure she wanted to know what her brother thought.

“I like him. He wasn’t what I expected from what people had said. He would have driven Dad insane.”

“Did he ask about me?”

“He asked if you knew I was visiting him. Seemed disappointed that you didn’t.” Scott tugged Sara’s tiny ponytail. “He said other things, in confidence, I don’t feel I can repeat.”

“Scott! Why not?” Sara demanded, reaching up to pull her hair out of her brother’s hand.

“Because you need to hear Reyes say them, not me.” Scott shrugged. “He was trying to convince me of something; he succeeded.”

“It doesn’t matter anyway, I suppose. The Charlatan and the Pathfinder will always come between Reyes and me. There’s no escaping them. No way we can get past them.”

“Stop borrowing trouble, sis. The Ryder twins are going to party and Kadara Port won’t know what’s hit it!”

“If I know Kadara Port, you won’t know what’s hit you!” Sara squeezed her brother tightly one more time. “I guess the Pathfinder doesn’t get to hold her brother’s hand in public because she’s scared.”

“How many Architects did you subdue? Sara, you can hold any damn hand you please, and no one is going to say shit about it.”

 "Apart from Reyes' hand," she murmured sadly.

 

* * *

 

 

As it happened, when Sara entered the main meeting room of the Collective, formerly known as the throne room, she had her arm tucked through her twin’s. The room was crowded yet they moved aside for the Tempest Pathfinder and her team. There were many familiar faces and they all wanted to say hello to Sara, to thank her for something, or to tell her they had been at the battle for Meridian. 

“I was told you were popular here but this is amazing, sis,” Scott said quietly.

“See that last guy? He got badly wounded on Meridian. Told the medics it was nothing compared to the beating he got off me in Kralla’s Song.”

“Really?”

“Yep, totally. I left him unconscious for two days, and he jumped on a shuttle when I needed help. I still don’t understand why,” Sara answered.

“I think it’s because you didn’t automatically treat everyone here as criminals,” Scott mused.

Keema spotted them and dashed over. “Sara! Oh! I am so very glad you are here,” the Angaran practically sang, wrapping the Pathfinder in a welcoming hug.

“It’s good to see you, Keema. You look lovely in that outfit,” Sara said, hugging back.

Keema was wearing a dark blue one piece suit which emphasised the delicate lilac hue of her skin. It was decorated with intricate embroidery in silver thread which caught the light when she moved. She looked sumptuous, and Sara felt even more unattractive in her Initiative clothes.

“If you like my finery, you should see you-know-who’s. He kept insisting you wouldn’t be here today. I think he was trying to keep his hopes down.” Keema looked and sounded mischievous.

“Keema, stop telling tales on me.” That husky voice with the unforgettable accent.

Still in Keema’s embrace, Sara hadn’t noticed Reyes join them. She pulled free from the Angaran’s arms and turned to look at him. He was even more gorgeous than she remembered, dressed in black trousers and a dark red shirt. Both garments must have been made to measure because of the way they hugged his lean body. His black hair was perfectly groomed and he looked freshly shaved. Sara decided she must take a picture of Reyes like this, if she could manage to sneak one without him noticing. Perhaps SAM could manage it? She would ask the AI when she could.

“Hello, Reyes,” she managed to say in a more or less normal voice.

Sara held out her hand for a handshake. Reyes took her hand, turned it over, and pressed a warm, dry kiss to her palm. Desire, and hope, flared like a supernova through her body.  

“It is a pleasure to see you again, Sara,” Reyes said, his eyes locked onto hers, still holding her hand. “A great pleasure.”

When someone - Scott? Cora? - cleared their throat, Sara realised she and Reyes had been standing in silence, staring at each other, who knows for how long? Embarrassment flooded her face with heat and she tried to think of something to say.

Sara blurted out the first, only, thing she could think of. “I love you, Reyes.”

Behind her, Drack sounded off in exultation. “I told you. Now pay up!”

Reyes closed the distance between them, until they were toe to toe. His eyes soft with yearning, he looked incredulous as he reached out to touch her cheek. He growled her name, and she lifted her face towards him for his kiss.

Then Scott tugged on her arm, pulled her back. Sara turned to glare at him as he gestured off to the right. Tann and Addison were bearing down on them, accompanied by Ambassador Morda. Reyes’ professional mask dropped back into place instantly and he took several steps back. Sara did her best to swallow down her desire and disappointment, putting on her pleasant, bland, Pathfinder face.

“This looks like a pretty serious shindig, Keema,” her brother said, trying to fill the silence. “Were those flags I saw in the market place?”

“Why, yes, Ryder. Bunting, I believe it is called,” Keema said smoothly. “Some of the humans insisted, said bunting is traditional. We couldn’t find any, even with all of Vidal’s contacts, so we had it made. The fuss over what colours to use! Oh, Director Tann, thank you again for joining us today.” She turned to greet the Salarian as if he wasn’t interrupting a precious moment.

“I am interested to see what happens with this experiment of yours. I’m unconvinced it is likely to work as well as you think,” Tann said.

“Have you met Reyes Vidal? He is one of our foremost Kadaran business people.” Keema gestured towards Reyes, who moved to her side.

“I have heard of Mr Vidal in several capacities. I do not believe I have met him.” Tann’s tone was icy.

Reyes nodded a greeting. “I didn’t have the opportunity to meet you, Director, while I was still part of the Initiative. Your work on the Nexus has been an inspiration to us here in Kadara Port.”

Sara couldn’t believe Tann actually preened slightly, as if he genuinely thought Reyes was complimenting him. The Pathfinder had no idea what Keema and Reyes were up to, but she would bet good credits they were upholding Tann as an example of how not to do things. Addison looked similarly dubious, and Morda actually laughed.

“It’s nearly time, Keema,” Reyes said.

“Yes it is! I believe Pathfinder Ryder is the only one who doesn’t know where her seat is so I shall escort her over. I’m afraid there isn’t room on the platform for all the Pathfinder crews, Sara. Vidal, can you show the Tempest crew over to where the others are for me, please?”

“Certainly, it would be a pleasure.” Reyes moved over to stand next to Scott and Cora.

Sara daren’t even sneak a backwards glance as Keema led her towards the massive windows, and Reyes took her crew off to the side. What had she been thinking, to just announce she loved him like that? Well, clearly she hadn’t been thinking. And now she had to sit through who knew what, which probably included at least ten minutes of Tann boring on about rubbish, while struggling with her mortification.

At least Reyes hadn’t recoiled in disgust. He’d kissed her, on the hand, but it was a kiss. And a kiss to the palm was more intimate than a kiss to the back of the hand, wasn’t it? Sara decided she needed to know about the etiquette of hand kissing. No chance now to research things, though. He had definitely been poised to kiss her when Scott had intervened. The passion with which Reyes had said her name had had the power to melt her down to her toes. Why did the bigwigs have to show up right then? Right then, when she was going to kiss the love of her life for the first time in an eternity?  

Keema led her directly to a chair near the middle of the dais where Sloane’s throne had been positioned. The other Pathfinders were already seated, and greeted Sara with smiles. They all seemed to know what was going on, Sara thought bitterly. Had it been a giant conspiracy against her? But there had been no need for such, as her obvious reluctance to talk about Kadara Port or the Charlatan with any of them had no doubt caused her exclusion.

Keema leaned forward, under the guise of making sure Sara was comfortable. “I am beyond happy for you, Sara. What a great day this is," she whispered.

“Er, why?” Sara muttered back.

“You and Reyes, misunderstandings in the past, declaring your feelings for each other, of course,” the Angaran replied.

“Seems to me, I’m the only one who has declared anything today, Keema.”

“So far, Sara, so far! The day has hardly begun.” Someone called for Keema, and she turned to go. “It’s a shame we can’t rush through this nonsense and get straight to the party, but Reyes insists everything must be done properly.”

Then Keema was gone, off to stand at the front of the dais, looking regal. Sara felt even more baffled. Keema clapped her hands loudly to call for silence.

“Friends, neighbours, colleagues! Thank you for coming today. We have some stupendous news to share with you today. Firstly, Pathfinder Raeka will deliver a speech on behalf of my close colleague, The Charlatan. Please, give this Pathfinder a rousing, Kadara welcome.”

There was a desultory round of applause. It seemed to Sara that at least half of the people present had as much idea as she did about the purpose of this event. She scanned the crowd, trying to see where Reyes had taken himself. She spotted her crew easily, part of a large group all in Initiative issue outfits. Reyes was harder to find. He had managed to secure a spot by the bar, of course, and he was leaning on one elbow, talking to Umi. He didn’t seem at all interested in Raeka. Now Sara knew where Reyes was, she could persuade herself to settle down and pay attention to The Charlatan’s speech.

“It was not for glory, nor riches, nor honours that we fought, but for freedom, justice, and a fair society for all, no matter their species, their origin, or gender.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> The opening words of the Charlatan's speech are based on the Declaration of Arbroath, written in 1320, and as powerful today as it was then. I could think of no better way to describe the aspirations of anyone struggling against tyranny.


End file.
